A train that leaves

A train ticket crumpled in a pocketWith, in a hand, a pocketbookShe's only eighteen years old, a big suitcaseBlue eyes looking at a train that arrives

A train that leaves is a bit like a homeA train that leavesFor the one who never knew a homeA train that leavesA train that leaves is a bit like a songA train that leavesFor the one who doesn't hear songs being sungAt the departure

The train scours the countryside, taking her to ParisWhat could she do there to gain her livelihood?She doesn't know many things, she's never done anythingOther than leaving those that she loved

A train that leaves is a bit like a homeA train that leavesFor the one who never knew a homeA train that leavesA train that leaves is a bit like a songA train that leavesFor the one who doesn't hear songs being sungAt the departure

A train that leaves is also the train of hopeA train that leavesFor the one who's going to find the otherWho is waiting in front of the stationA train that leaves is a bit like their songA train that leavesWhere everything ends and starts, like a romanceIn a station

A train that leaves is also the train of hopeA train that leavesFor the one who's going to find the otherWho is waiting in front of the stationA train that leaves is a bit like their songA train that leaves